


Valentine's Day in July

by President_Frankenstein



Category: Camp Lazlo!
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2019-10-22 21:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/President_Frankenstein/pseuds/President_Frankenstein
Summary: Just a collection of drabblets for my favorite pairs.





	1. Musty Corners (Clam x Raj)

Raj grunted theatrically, standing on tiptoes as he gave the yodeling section a vigorous dusting.

“...Ugh, another day, another layer!” he groused, squinting over his trunk to inspect the shelf he had been chroming so fiercely, “Whoever invented dust particles needs their patent license revoked!”

“License revoked,” echoed Clam from his bunk.

The little rhinoceros crossed his arms behind his head, and stared aimlessly into the cabin ceiling, as Raj continued to complain out of sight to his left.

It was always so tense when Lazlo left them for volunteer work. The summer sun beamed brilliantly through the window netting, illuminating everything, especially dust. Clam knew he could leave at any time, but remained where he was.

Raj could be a real fuddy-duddy, but he was company.

“‘Look at this, Raj!’” the elephant rumbled, in a deep, snooty voice that Clam by now knew as a mocking impression of his cabinmate’s father, “'Summer camp! In America! That’ll make you hard and tough!'”

Clam glanced over, wheezing a single giggle to himself as Raj continued on with his time-tested autobiography rehearsal.

“ _Yeees!_ ” Raj went on, in the feminine, shrieking voice reserved his mother, “You need to get out more, papadum! The servants are good for play, but not as friends!”

He scoffed, using the side of a ruler to make the records stand squarely together.

“I am _not_ a papadum,” he glowered, with feeling.

Out of nowhere, the springs of a bunk screeched out from behind him, and Raj spun around to see his cabinmate wordlessly tottering towards the door.

“Clam!” he called after him, tone dripping with offense, “Where are you going? Clam!”

The door squeaked open, and smacked shut unassisted. Raj stood welded to his spot, speechless... but not for long.

Abruptly, the door rasped and swatted again. In stormed Clam, effortlessly carrying a milk crate bent white at its plastic sides, stuffed over the brim with rocks, before setting it on the floor.

“ **Clam!** ” Raj bellowed, “What have I told you about your rock collection staying outside the c-”

As demeaning as a saber pulled out of the hands of a king, Clam yanked the duster out of the elephant’s grasp, making a show of dusting the peak of the rock pile as daintily as he could.

“Papadum, papadum, papadum!” the rhino sung out, pinching the fingers on his free hand and sticking out his tongue, “License revoked, papadum!”

Raj went pink from ear to ear, which they both knew was never a good way to stop his cabinmate mocking him.

“I am **_NOT_** a papadum!” he snarled, “Now return that cleaning implement or I shall have to seize and repossess it forcefully!”

Clam laughed, and handed the frayed little thing back. It hadn’t been clenched for two seconds in Raj’s fist, when the smaller scout enveloped him in a firm, disarming hug. At once, all the fight was knocked out of the elephant.

“Heh...” sighed Clam absentmindedly, “...Papadum.”

Raj cautiously returned the hug, angling the feathers of the duster away from them both.


	2. Paperwork (Nurse Leslie x Slinkman)

Slinkman sighed, girded himself for the scene that awaited him, and clacked the switch. Immediately, the office was bathed in the scummy yellow glow put off by the one light bulb, and his gaze floated to the desk. It seemed to be almost buckling beneath a mountain of pink, yellow, green and white papers. There had been some half-hearted attempt of organization at the base, but this had quickly broken down as the mound had grown.

Slinkman pinched the space between his eyestalks.

“Al…” he murmured despondently, making his way to the desk.

He flopped down into the Scoutmaster’s chair, cracked his knuckles, and dug himself in. The more he immersed himself in the job, Slinkman knew, the less bothered he would be by the unfairness of it. The minutes passed, unbeknownst to him, as he steadily chipped the heap away. Before long, he had practically become a machine, speed-reading and categorizing one paper after another. Medical records, demerits, fundraiser announcements, letters from parents and guardians, complaints from parents and guardians, and so on all earned piles of their own, and each of those piles began developing subcategories themselves.

He was just about to yank the file cabinet open when there came a knock at the door. Slinkman remembered to breathe, momentarily reflected on the episode he had just gone through, and looked away.

“C… Come… Come in…” he panted.

The door squeaked open, and Nurse Leslie rolled his way in, his chair rhythmically clunking across the floorboards. He had by now changed out of his scrubs, and was clad in his greasy, off-duty Hawaiian shirt. The nurse shark looked from the wheezing slug, to the piles of papers extending from the desk to the floor, and back again.

“...Mark?” Leslie asked, at last.

Slinkman propped himself casually against the cabinet, sweat dripping from where his palm rested.

“Oh… H… Hey… man… how’s it… goin’?”

Leslie stared blankly.

“I finished sterilizing my instruments, and thought I’d check to see if you were working yourself too hard before I went home.”

“Oh… how thoughtful of you!” Slinkman just about peeled his fingers away from their place, “But uhhh, everything’s copacetic here! You just caught me on my break, um… yeah. Y-You said, ster… sterilizing your instruments? How’d that uhh, that work out? Good? Good, I hope?”

Leslie blinked.

“Mark, come on.”

“What? What? Everything’s fine, you know that! I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m a pillar of stability.”

“Would a pillar of stability arrange complaint letters from the Clogmeyers about splinters in lunch tables in a pile separate from complaint letters from the Clogmeyers about splinters in game tables?”

Slinkman paused, licked his lips, and fidgeted where he stood.

“Plus, you said ‘Hey man, how’s it goin’,’ which I’ve learned to see as a bit of a giveaway,” continued Leslie. This time, he allowed himself a small smile.

Slinkman squirmed, and rubbed the back of his head, chuckling uncomfortably.

“Yeah… I guess so… You really know this slimeball before you like a book, don’t ya?”

“A Nursemaster knows his Super Slug,” Leslie’s toothy grin grew wider.

“Guess so…”

The whole cabin suddenly seemed to shake, as Scoutmaster Lumpus stomped once, twice, three times on the floor just above them.

“SHUT UP, SHUT UP, **SHUT UUUUUP!** ” he roared, “You two clammy knuckleheads deserve each other! Now pipe down, IMPORTANT PEOPLE are TRYING to eat meatball subs in the bath _IN PEACE!_ ”

Leslie smirked.

“Eugh, that’s an image I won’t soon shake,” he gestured to the door, “Join me on the porch, fellow clammy knucklehead?”


End file.
